


Please Don't Punch Me

by greenteafiend



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Meet-Cute, klance, mild homophobia, they're older
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 14:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenteafiend/pseuds/greenteafiend
Summary: Keith is not Nyma’s boyfriend, but Lance thinks he is. Lance also thinks that Keith wants to punch him in the face for flirting with her, and maybe making out with her, but in his defense, she didn’t tell him she had a boyfriend with a jealous streak a mile wide!So naturally, Lance buys Keith a ‘please don’t punch me in the face’ beer.Keith just thinks he’s flirting.





	Please Don't Punch Me

     ‘You can’t punch a guy if he buys you a beer, its _science,_ I’m telling you,’ Lance has to raise his voice slightly to be heard above the background buzz of people talking in the bar. It's busy.

     ‘I dunno man, I’ve heard stories about Nyma’s boyfriend. I _reeeeally_ think it’d be best if you just avoided him. Some other shmuck will make the mistake of hitting on her, and he’ll forget all about you,’ replies Hunk, ever the voice of reason.

     ‘Two beers please!’ says Lance to the bartender.

     ‘Is one of those for me?’

     ‘Three beers please!’ amends Lance quickly.

     ‘-But It’s your funeral I guess.’

     ‘Aw, c’mon, you’ll have my back right? If he tries to fight me?’

     ‘You _know_ how I feel about violence,’ says Hunk. Lance rolls his eyes.

     ‘Yeah, and _I_ know how intimidating you can look when you put your mind to it. You don’t have to fight him for me, just, you know, scare him off if it looks like I’ll be murdered.’ 

Suddenly Hunk’s cheeks turn pink as he catches sight of something over Lance’s shoulder. Lance turns his head to see what’s caught Hunk’s attention, before snorting in amusement.

     “Oh look, there’s Shay,” he says slyly.

     “ _La-nce-”_ wines Hunk pathetically, “-look at her, she’s so beautiful. And she’s so kind, and nice, and smart.”

     “Why don’t you go buy her a drink, and tell her everything you just told me?” suggests Lance helpfully.  

Hunk twiddles his thumbs.

     “I dunno man…”

He loves Hunk like a brother, he really does, but Hunk needs to grow some balls. Lance decides to take pity on him. He turns around to face Shay and draws in a deep breath--

     “Yo, Shay!” he hollers, waving wildly.

     “ _Lance!_ What are you doing?” whispers Hunk furiously.

     “I’m helping you. You’ll thank me later.”

Lance feels Hunk’s whole body jolt as Shay spots them and beams sunnily. She weaves through the crowd to reach them.

     “Hi, guys!” she chirps.

     “Evening, Shay,” says Lance smoothly.

     “Hi,” gasps Hunk, sounding like he’s about to die.

     “What’re you having Shay? Hunk here is going to buy you a drink,” says Lance jovially, slapping Hunk on the back.

He doesn’t miss the shyly pleased look that crosses Shay’s face as she gazes at Hunk.

These two were so stupidly gone for each other that their mutual pining was making Lance ill. 

     “Um, are you sure-”

     “YES!” Hunk clears his throat, “I mean, _yes_. What would you like?”

Across the bar Lance spots a man staring at him.

Lance doesn’t actually know what Nyma’s boyfriend’s name is, or what he looks like. All he knows is that he’s _here_ , that wants to punch Lance in the face, and that he rides a motorcycle.

The guy staring at him is wearing a red motorcycle jacket and matching riding boots. _That,_ coupled with the way he’s fixated on Lance's face, makes him figure that he must be the guy.

Lance takes that as his cue.

     “I think I see the person I bought this other beer for over there. I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute.”

Hunk and Shay barely spare him a glance as he slips away, a beer handle clutched tightly in each fist.

The guy looks less scary and aggressive than he expects, and his gaze tracks Lance’s movement. Lance is proud he doesn’t spill any drink as he dodges through the thick crowd.

The guy is conveniently leaning against a wall next to a table so Lance puts down one of the beers so he can extend one of his hands.

     ‘Hi, I’m Lance, that guy you hate,’ he says, with his most charming smile, the one that flashes his straight white teeth and dimples.

The guy blinks like he can’t believe Lance is front of him talking to him, as if he didn’t just watch Lance’s approach whilst staring like a god-damn bird of prey. Lance figures he’s surprised that he had the audacity to address him like this.

He takes Lance’s offered hand hesitantly.

     ‘…I’m Keith,’ he says.

Lance catalogues that he has a nice voice, that his grip is strong, and that he’s wearing fingerless leather gloves.

He’s actually, on the whole, kind of, well -- _hot_. In a bad boy _I-could-beat-you-up-with-my-hands-tied-behind-my-back_ kind of way. His hair is inky black and hangs into his eyes, which are dark. Lance can’t tell the exact color in the low light of the bar. He looks vaguely Asian, with the exact sharp jawline and lithe-but-muscular body type Lance is weak for in boys. _Men._

He’s shorter than Lance, but that’s a given. _Everyone_ is shorter than him, except Hunk. And Shiro. Ok not everyone, but Lance is _tall,_ ok?

Basically, if the guy didn’t have a girlfriend and didn’t want to punch him in the face, Lance probably would have tried to chat him up.

     ‘So... why do I hate you?’ asks Keith once Lance lets go of his hand.

Lance realizes that Keith has not made the connection, and decides it would be better for himself if it stays that way until he can charm him enough that he doesn’t even want to hit him anymore no matter what he may or may not have done with Nyma. 

     ‘I dunno man, but I bought you this to make it up to you,’ he says airily, holding out the beer for Keith to take.

Keith crosses his arms over his chest and frowns.

     ‘How do I know you didn’t put anything in it?’

Lance blinks, then he brings the beer to his lips to take a large gulp. He sees Keith eyes track the bobbing movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

     ‘Not poisoned, I promise,’ he says with a lazy grin, holding out the beer again.

This time Keith accepts it, unfolding his arms and relaxing his posture.

     ‘So what brings you out tonight?’ Lance asks.

     ‘Came to see the live band,’ replied Keith.

     ‘Hey, that’s why I’m here! My friend Pidge is playing-’

     ‘Are you the punk that’s been hitting on my girlfriend?’ a veritable mountain of muscle shoulder barges Lance from his spot in front of Keith, causing Lance to slosh beer all over the floor.

The guy is huge, just as tall as Lance, but much wider. All muscle. His nostrils are flared, meaty fists clenched, teeth bared.

In short, he is terrifying.

     ‘No,’ replies Keith coolly, not looking the least bit concerned or afraid. Lance sets his beer down on the table, relieved he didn’t get any beer on his clothes.

     ‘Listen here you little shit-’

     ‘Woah, woah, woah, _heeey_ , let’s talk about this calmly like gentlemen,’ Lance runs his stupid mouth and forces his stupid limbs between them, a hand on each chest. The guy doesn’t budge at all at the pressure Lance exerts.

     ‘How about we all take a deep breath and-’

     ‘Get your fucking hand off me you _faggot_ ,’ the guy spits, and Lance can’t help but flinch at the sheer level of hostility.

     ‘What the fuck did you just say?’ says Keith quietly. _Dangerously._ The outline of his body goes ominously rigid and his hands curl into fists.

The situation is deteriorating out of control and Lance makes one last ditch effort to salvage it despite the horrible pit that’s opened up in his stomach.  

     ‘Look, we don’t want any trouble-’

The guy suddenly shoves him. Lance stumbles back and slips on the beer he’d spilt. His arms windmill to correct his balance, but ultimately gravity brings him down _, hard._ On the way to the floor his head smashes against the corner of the table. It really _really_ hurts, and his vision swims.

     ‘You’ll regret that,’ Lance dully registers that although Keith didn’t raise his voice, he sounds scary furious.

Things after that are a bit… hazy.

He hears a pained groan, and the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.

Keith’s pretty face appears right in front of him. He looks concerned. He also looks blurry.

     ‘Lance! Are you okay?’

Keith takes one of Lance’s hands and levers him so he’s sitting up.

Lance squints, head spinning, trying to force Keith’s features to stay put in one place.

     ‘ _Creo… creo que eso es mi culpa_.’

Keith’s face twists into confusion.

     ‘I can’t understand what you’re saying.’

Right, Keith can’t speak Spanish. It makes his head hurt, but Lance forces himself to repeat what he said in English.

     ‘I-I think this is my fault.’

Although his brain is strangely slow and sluggish, he manages to realize that Keith is _not_ Nyma’s boyfriend. A misunderstanding has happened, and he thinks he knows where he went wrong.

Or at least he will, once his head stops pounding enough to think properly.

     ‘This _isn’t_ your fault,’ snaps Keith fiercely.

Lance feels fingers search gently through his hair. He hisses in pain when they brush against a tender spot, and the touch immediately withdraws.

     ‘Do you think you can stand?’

Lance automatically tries to nod, but immediately stops because it hurts.

     ‘Sure _. Quizás_ ,’ he mumbles.

Keith helps him up. He is embarrassingly unsteady, and Keith has to slip an arm around his waist to keep him upright.

Lance looks down and sees the guy laid out on the floor. Did Keith just...?

     ‘Did you… did you defend my honor?’ he asks stupidly.

     ‘He was being an asshole,’ replies Keith stiffly.

     ‘Lance! What happened!?’ Hunk is there now too.

Lance tries to say ‘Dude, I think Keith laid this guy out ‘cause he called me a nasty name,’ but somewhere between his thoughts and his mouth his words are getting garbled because it comes out sounding like ‘Dud Key, l-laid out, h-he called me nasty name.’

     ‘He also pushed you over and made you hit your head so hard you probably have a concussion,’ injects Keith angrily.  

     ‘Yikes, I heard the crack of him hitting the table from all the way over there!’ 

Lance vaguely registers that Hunk and Keith exchange names and shake hands. They are talking to each other, probably about him, but he can’t make sense of it over the pounding in his head.

The next thing he is aware of is sitting in a car. He’s in the back seat with his head in Hunk’s lap and Keith is driving.

     ‘ _A dónde vamos?_ ’ he slurs.

     ‘Lance, I can’t speak Spanish,’ Hunk says patiently, like this isn’t the first time he has told Lance this.

     ‘He asked where we’re going,’ murmurs Keith.

     ‘Huh, can you speak Spanish?’ asks Hunk.

     ‘No, but I took it in high school. I remember a little bit.’

     ‘Where are we going?’ Lance injects, making an effort to speak in English.  

     ‘The hospital Lance,’ says Hunk.

     ‘Whose car?’

     ‘Shiro’s,’ answers Keith.

     ‘Hunk! _Que pasó con_ _Shay_!’ Lance exclaims suddenly.

     ‘Let me worry about Shay.’

     ‘You gotta… you gotta ask her out man.’

     ‘Sure thing buddy.’

     ‘You’re my best friend Hunk.’

    ‘I know man-’

     ‘Grow some balls your mu-mutual pining is _sickening._ ’

Hunk splutters indignantly, and Lance hears Keith chuckle. 

He zones out again, but is forced to zone back in by Hunk’s insistent nudging. 

     ‘Lance, open your eyes you can’t sleep.’

     ‘But m’tired,’ he wines, ‘and I _hurt_. _Deja me en paz_.’

Lance’s brain latches on to _why_ he hurts. That horrible guy pushed him, but before that...  

For some reason he feels tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He can’t stop thinking about the virulence in his tone when he’d spat that hateful word…

     ‘Why’d he call me that?’ Lance whimpers.

     ‘Why’d who call you what buddy?’ asks Hunk patiently. Lance sniffs.

     ‘Because he’s a homophobic asshole,’ supplies Keith from the driver’s seat. Hunk makes a noise of understanding.

     ‘Why am I so upset though? I’m not… I’m not even gay, but it _hurts_. Everything _hurts_.’

Lance is aware that he is whining, and probably not making much sense but he can’t control himself.

     ‘Oh Lance,’ sighs Hunk, patting his head.

When they get to the hospital, a doctor asks him questions and Hunk has to keep reminding him to answer in English.

Keith is still there, a warm presence with a solid hand across his back to prop him up.

     ‘Do I have work tomorrow?’ he mumbles sleepily into Keith’s shoulder. Keith smells nice.

     ‘Do you work on Thursdays?’ asks Keith. The rumble of his voice is soothing.

     ‘No.’

     ‘Then no, you don’t have work.’

     ‘Cool.’

Someone grasps his chin gently and turns it so the doctor can shine a bright light into his eyes.

At some point he is ushered into a white room for a scan, and then they have him lie down in a bed and finally, _finally_ , he’s allowed to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Where am I going with this? I don't know lol But i decided to yolo and post it anyway!  
> Tell me what you think and hopefully I'll be inspired to think of more to write. :)


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